


A Valentine's Day In Sickness And In Health — But Mostly Sickness

by UAs_Fics



Category: South Park
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, One Shot, Valentine's Day, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 08:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UAs_Fics/pseuds/UAs_Fics
Summary: Of all the days Tweek had to get sick, it just had to be on Valentine’s Day! Well, he was not about to let something as small as a stomach bug ruin the dinner Craig worked so hard on.For The CreekCrew's Valentine's Day event on tumblr.





	A Valentine's Day In Sickness And In Health — But Mostly Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: There is vomiting in this story, just an FYI if you’re the queasy sort.  
> creek-crew’s Valentine’s Day event. The idea itself also came from [this prompt.](https://fanficdoc.tumblr.com/post/182558332542/this-is-a-great-fic-prompt-write-a-valentines) The emoji I got were 😏💗😷 which in part works with one of the CreekCrew prompt s xD

* * *

* * *

Tweek stared down at the small digital screen. Ninety - nine on the dot: a low-grade fever, but a fever nonetheless.

Great, just great! Today of all days he had to get sick! This couldn't have waited until tomorrow to hit him?

It was _Valentine's Day_ for Pete's sake!

He raised his head to stare at himself in the mirror. He didn't look too terribly sick just yet. Maybe he could hide it: the bags under his eyes were a normal feature from his chronic insomnia; he could blame his flushed cheeks on pleasant embarrassment; and even his chills could be chalked up to his ticks acting up.

Yeah, he could do this! So long as his fever stayed low and Craig didn't touch him too much, he might be able to pull this off.

Tweek fixed his eyes with his mirror-self’s gaze then sighed, slumping forward. Their foreheads touched, only the cool glass between them. 

No, he couldn't do it. Lying to Craig like this was _wrong_. Tweek had no choice but to march to the kitchen and tell the love of his life their special holiday together was canceled. 

The thought of Craig's disappointment twisted Tweek's already nauseated stomach.

Without missing a beat, he hurried to the toilet, lifted the lid and seat, and vomited into the bowl. 

His three-fourth digested lunch spread across the water. 

Tweek went to rest his head on the rim but stopped just before his cheek touched the porcelain. 

When was the last time Craig cleaned under the toilet seat? Last weekend or the weekend before? Either way, Tweek wasn't going to dare put his face against it. 

Instead, he leaned back before flipping down the handle. The crushed hotdog with extra relish and ketchup disappeared into the sewers with the rest of his stomach contents.

This was all Clyde's fault. Clyde was the one who dragged Tweek out of work to make him try 'the best hotdog in town.' It wasn't even the best. It was mediocre _at best._

Tweek folded some toilet paper into a misaligned triangle to clean the sides of his mouth.

This illness must have come from the hotdog. Tweek's gut _told_ him the hotdog looked sketchy and he shouldn't eat it. Why didn't he listen? His gut was almost always right!

"Bet the vendor didn't even wash their hands..." Tweek grumbled, tossing the toilet paper into the bowl before flushing again.

Tweek hoisted himself to his feet. He turned on the sink. Tilting his head, he tried to drink some of the water to clear the vomit taste from his mouth. There was not enough room for Tweek to comfortably fit.

Grumbling to himself, Tweek opened the medicine cabinets above the sink. His mirrorself disappeared as the door the mirror was affixed to open.

He dug around, only to come to the realization that they were out of stomach medication. Tweek shook the empty bottle of stomach relief medication before tossing it in the trash.

This day was just a string of bad luck for him, wasn't it? 

Tweek's hand brushed the envelope he brought in with him. He sighed. 

This year he and Craig had promised no physical gifts, just gestures and acts of love. Craig snatched up Tweek's first plan for a non-physical gift the moment they agreed on the idea. This left Tweek wracking his brain for something else he could give that wasn't too cliche or cheesy. He finally found only three days ago.

Maybe museum tickets were fudging that 'physical' rule a little, but, as far as Tweek saw it, this was more an experience than anything.

As he pocketed the envelope, another wave of nausea hit, forcing him to hover back over the bowl. Luckily, it passed without anything coming up. 

This was not how he wanted to spend Valentine's Day! 

Swearing curses against Clyde Donovan, Tweek left the bathroom. Well, he had to talk to Craig in the kitchen anyway. No point putting it off.

* * *

The household chores were divided up between Craig and Tweek. Craig cleaned the bathroom and did laundry and their bedroom, while Tweek took care of all the cooking and the kitchen and living room. The only room they shared cleaning was the small room that their pet guinea pigs called home. It wasn't a perfect system by any means, but it worked well enough for them.

So when Craig announced he would be cooking dinner as his Valentine's Day gift, Tweek was rightfully worried. 

What if Craig burnt food to the bottom of Tweek's saucepan? What if he didn't use a different cutting board and cross-contaminated his ingredients? What if he undercooked the meat? Did Craig even know how to use a meat thermometer? 

Putting this off night be a good thing.

"Hey, Craig, I--" Tweek started as he entered the kitchen.

The whole kitchen smelled of browning beef and spices. Tweek's dutch oven sat on the stove top, water just then starting to boil. A saucepan of beef sizzling against the heat sat next to it. On the kitchen table were fresh herbs, basil, cilantro, and oregano, along with green beans. A box half obscured by the herbs read 'oodles'.

Craig stood at the counter, a knife in hand. A half chopped onion sat on the cutting board. 

"Hey, honey," Craig greeted. 

"Is that my apron?" Tweek asked, suddenly forgetting the reason he had come in.

Craig looked down at the floral print apron then nodded. The apron had been a gift from Tweek's parents when he moved out. According to them, they _ordered_ a flat green one for him, but the company sent the wrong pattern.

Tweek was sure they messed up the order but didn't complain. The apron was made of high quality, yet lightweight, material and full of pockets. Tweek adored the apron, even if the pattern looked like something off an antique couch.

"Don't worry," Craig assured, wiping a stray onion tear from his eye with his sleeve, "I'm being careful not to get it dirty." He reached into one of the large front pockets.

For a heartbeat, Tweek was sure Craig was going to pull Stripe The Seventh out. Tweek had caught him toting their pets around in his apron before, after all. 

Instead, Craig took a small pack of gum out. He popped one of the pieces from its plastic and foil wrappings before tossing it in his mouth. Tweek almost pointed out chewing gum would not actually help with the onions, but kept his mouth shut.

Tweek took a step farther into the kitchen.

"Whatcha making?" He asked.

Craig held up his hand without the knife. "It's a surprise, and you can't be in here while I'm cooking."

The smell of the onions hit him in the face then, and he felt a new wave of nausea. 

Oh, that's right. That was why he came in here.

"I need a drink," Tweek took a half step towards the refrigerator. When Craig didn't go to stop him, he opened it. A long piece of french bread sat kitty-corner in the middle of the refrigerator. One end of it rested on the butter container and the other on top of the milk. 

Tweek thought about drinking the soda they kept in the door but decided against the carbonated beverage. He took the milk instead and shook it. There wasn't much left.

"Will you need this?" He asked, raising the carton.

Craig glanced up from the onions. He blinked away the tears before saying, "Don't think so. Why--"

Tweek already unscrewed the cap and downed the last of the milk. He wished he could have washed his mouth out with water and spat the vomit taste down the drain, but the milk worked well enough.

"Impressive," Craig told him, going back to his work. "Now, go. Food doesn't taste as good if you watch it be cooked, babe."

"Actually, Craig, I..." Tweek started. He pushed the cuticle on his pointer finger up with the nail of his thumb to keep his hands from fiddling around with the milk carton.

Craig once again gave Tweek his attention, and Tweek looked anywhere but his face. He focused instead on the quarter sunflower on the right strap of the apron.

"I'm..."

The words died on his tongue. 

How could he ruin this day for Craig? He knew Craig had been planning this for at least two weeks. He kept coming up to Tweek with question after question on cooking, like 'did he need to rinse the vegetables before cutting them?' or 'how to pick the best tomatoes from the store.'

Craig had been so excited to be able to cook something special for Tweek and show off his own skills as a chef.

Tweek couldn't do it.

"I'm really happy you're trying so hard for me," Tweek said instead.

"Well, of course." Craig rested his elbow on the counter. "It's Valentine's Day, after all. It's an excuse for me to be as cheesy with you as I want, and you can't make fun of me for it." He winked and Tweek smiled. 

"If you go all out with rose petals and candles and junk, I will tease you." Tweek pushed the air from the milk carton before twisting the cap back on. 

Craig seemed to flinch back at the suggestion, but it happened so fast Tweek wasn't sure. 

"You'll love it," Craig promised. "Now, get out."

Tweek tossed the carton in the trash then turned. His window of opportunity to own up to his illness was closing with every step, and he knew it.

"Tell him! Tell him now! He'll understand," One part of his brain told him.

Another, louder part, shouted, "No! Don't! You'll make him sad. You can hold it together and make him happy just for tonight."

Tweek decided to listen to the louder voice.

At the door, he paused a moment. 

"I'm, uh, urk, I need to run to the store quickly. Would that be ok?" Tweek asked without turning around.

Craig hummed. "Yeah, sounds good. This'll take a while anyway."

Tweek simply nodded, then hurried to grab his coat and shoes. He was out the door before his guilt could overtake him.

* * *

Tweek threw up on the walk to the store twice: Once just down the block from his house in old Mrs. Galvinson's bushes and once in a trashcan near the gas station.

He felt bad about Mrs. Galvinson's bushes, but he didn't have much of a choice. It was either hidden behind some bushes or on the sidewalk. 

Tweek chose the lesser of two evils.

At least, he could take comfort in the fact that no one saw him either time. 

He swore at himself as he waited at the crosswalk. How could he forget to restock the medicine cabinet? Tweek had been so good at that when they first moved in together! He made a mental note to himself to stock up really well next payday as he finally walked into the store.

He turned his coat collar up to cover his mouth. Even if whatever bug he had wasn't passed around by breathing, he still felt bad about being sick in public. There could be babies or old people out who couldn't handle this bug as well as he could. He needed to get what he needed and get home.

Without returning the cashier's greeting, Tweek darted towards the medicine aisle. The moment he turned the corner, he bumped straight into someone's back.

"S-sorry! Urk! I didn't mean to," Tweek stammered.

The person turned, and rage boiled up in Tweek.

"Oh, hey, Tweek!" Clyde greeted cheerily. 

Tweek had to fight down the urge to sock Clyde right in the mouth. 

"Clyde," Tweek hissed.

Clyde switched the small basket he held to his other hand as he spoke, "What brings you out tonight? Don't you and Craig have _plans_?" An impish grin crossed his lips. "Or, are you preparing for that? The Adult Time Stuff is in the next aisle over, Tweek." 

He gently pushed his shoulder. A rush of vertigo overcame Tweek and he nearly fell over.

"Are you ok?" Clyde asked.

"Fine," Tweek muttered, resting his shoulder against a display stand for Germ-X. "What are you doing here? Don't _you_ have plans with Bebe?"

Clyde sighed. "We did, but she caught this bug going around."

"Bug?" Tweek stiffened. "Bebe's sick? What kind of bug? Is it bad?"

"Naaaah," Clyde shook his head, "the doc said it was just something going around. She told her to drink plenty of fluids and stay home to rest." He sighed dramatically. "I wanted to keep her in bed on Valentines Day, but I didn't want it like this."

Tweek rolled this new information around in his head. If Bebe was the sick one, then how did Tweek get it? He hadn't seen her in a few weeks. Did he pick it up from somewhere else, a stranger or doorknob? Was Clyde a carrier for this particular illness?

He shook his head. There was nothing he could do about it now.

"Tell Bebe I hope she gets better," Tweek said as he slipped around Clyde into the aisle. He considered for a moment getting the medication he wanted but stopped himself. If Clyde saw him picking up medication, he might text Craig about it. 

Instead, Tweek continued to walk past the medication aisle to the next aisle for pets and pretended to browse the very small rodent selection.

He felt Clyde's gaze on his back before hearing him say, "I will. You and Craig have a happy Valentine's Day. Tell me later if Craig fucked up the recipe I gave him."

Tweek said he would. He continued looking through the pet aisle until Clyde left the store. Heaving a sigh, Tweek headed back to the medicine aisle. 

He took back some of the curses he had said against Clyde, but not quite all of them.

* * *

The house smelled amazing when Tweek walked in and Tweek knew exactly what Craig's secret dinner was: lasagna.

It made his stomach twist.

Craig sat on the couch. His long legs took up the other two seats while his heels rested on the opposite arm.

"Whatcha get?" He asked, leaning back to look at Tweek. His bangs fell down, revealing his hairline. He looked adorable.

"Juice. For Dinner." Tweek held up the bag with the two cartons. The medication he bought stayed safely tucked away in his jacket pocket. He had already taken some cold and flu pills and stomach relief medication on the walk home. With any luck, they would kick in before dinner so Tweek could enjoy the food Craig worked so hard on.

"If you wanted wine or something, you could have told me. I would have picked some up." Craig rolled over so he was right side up.

Tweek set the juice bag near Craig's feet. He wasn't about to tell him the real reason for the juice was so he could keep hydrated once he finally owed up to being ill.

"You know I don't like getting drunk. I get noisy. I yelled at a street lamp for ten minutes last time," Tweek reminded.

"But you get giggly first." Craig smiled at him. “I like the little hiccups you make when you're drunk and start talking too fast. It's really cute, actually."

"You know who else is cute?" Tweek flirted. 

"Who?" Craig sat on his knees, reaching out for Tweek's hand.

"Stripe." Tweek dodged around him, moving just slow enough to avoid another wave of nausea. "I'm going to go play with the kids since you're cooking."

Craig deflated, slumping down against the couch. Tweek felt a pang of guilt but swallowed it down. He wouldn't ruin Craig's efforts, even if it meant not touching his boyfriend until after the dishes were in the sink.

* * *

Tweek enjoyed the cool carpet floor. Stripe the Seventh and his girlfriend, Sunflower the First, ran around him as they played. At least those two were having a nice Valentine's Day.

Sunflower clambered onto Tweek's back before scampering up his spine. Stripe followed along until guinea pigs covered Tweek's shoulders.

Any other time, he would have rolled to the side and set his pets tumbling off, but now the warmth felt nice. 

His eyes slipped shut and he began to doze off.

Stripe made a dash over the back of his head. His little paws tangled in Tweek's messy hair. He tripped and rolled forward. He scrambled to his paws, shaking himself once, before darting off. Sunflower pipped then hurried off Tweek's shoulders after him. 

Tweek rubbed the back of his head as he sent a glare out at Stripe and Sunflower. 

"I thought we taught you better manners than that, young man," Tweek scolded. Stripe didn't seem to care he was being reprimanded. He dove into one of the play tunnels Craig recently set up for them.

Rolling his eyes, Tweek laid his head back down on his arms.

He wanted to stay right where he was and take a nap. At least when he was down horizontal his head didn't spin. Even his stomach seemed to settle. Though that might have been from the fact at this point it was completely empty, save for the medication.

Someone knocked on the open door. Tweek begrudgingly rolled over. Craig stood with one arm crossed lazily over his chest and the other resting parallel against the door.

How long had he been watching? Did he see his son's lapse in manners? Or had he just watch Tweek laze about on the carpet.

"Oh, hey," Tweek pushed himself to his elbows. 

"Food's done," Craig proclaimed proudly. 

Tweek nodded. He crawled over to the corner where Stripe and Sunflower played to scoop them both up before walking them to their cage. He gently set them down, patting each on their fuzzy heads in turn.

"Be good. Daddy and Daddy have a big night planned," Tweek told them as he headed towards the door.

Craig opened his arms for a hug when Tweek neared. For a second, panic gripped Tweek's heart. He shuddered — and it was not entirely from his fever. How was he supposed to get out of this physical contact? Craig took up the whole door!

Thinking fast, Tweek held up his hand, palm facing Craig. 

"You can wait," Tweek tried to sound flirty, "until after dinner, can't you, tiger? You do know what they say, absence makes the heart stronger, don't you?" He tacked on the last part with a wink.

Craig thought on that a moment before slowly stepping aside. 

"So, I'm getting something _really_ good from you after dinner, then?" He teased. 

Tweek smirked as he slipped by. "Maybe," he replied in a sing-song voice. 

"Fuck yeah," Craig muttered under his breath while Tweek headed towards the bathroom to wash his hands. 

Before heading to the kitchen table for dinner, Tweek splashed some cold water across his face. He took his temperature one more time. 

It was nearly a hundred now.

 _I just need to make it through dinner,_ Tweek thought.

* * *

As Tweek predicted, the secret dish Craig had made was lasagna. Cheese melted off the top and mixed with the sauce spilling from between the noodles. The thick, toasted garlic bread already began to soak up some of the sauce, as had the green beans with bits of onion and bacon in them.

Craig stood next to the table. His smile reminded Tweek of a dog who had just brought back a particularly good stick. 

"Craig, this looks amazing!" Tweek proclaimed. "You did a great job." He had to force himself not to give Craig a kiss for his hard work. 

Tweek slipped into the seat. He waited expectantly for Craig, but instead of sitting with him, Craig took a few steps backward. With a wide grin, he opened one of the kitchen drawers before pulling out a heart-shaped card.

"I know we said we weren't getting each other physical gifts this year, but I saw this, and it reminded me of you," Craig explained when Tweek started to protest.

Tweek took the card. A picture of a bright, smiling sun with the words "You are my sunshine" written in swirling font covered the front. Tweek reached up and brushed some of his sunny hair back from his face. 

"Open it!" Craig prompted as he took his seat across from Tweek.

Tweek did so and read Craig's words out loud, "'Tweek, Happy Valentine's Day. You are the light of heart and my world. Every day with you is special and makes me happy. Please stay with me forever. Love Craig.'" 

Tweek chuckled as his eyes landed on the drawing of what he assumed was himself and Craig, along with Stripe and Sunflower. An arrow connected the picture to the words 'our loving family.'

"Craig, this is so cheesy." Tweek teased, holding the card to his chest. "I love it."

"I love you," Craig replied coolly. Something flickered across his face, as if he had something else he wanted to say, but it was gone just as quickly as it has appeared.

Tweek leaned forward and reached into his pocket for his gift. "Here. It's not physical. It's an experience with a physical catalyst."

He slid the crumpled envelope across the table. Craig raised an eyebrow as he took it. 

A wide smile spread across Tweek's face as Craig's own eyes grew in wonder. 

"Holy shit," he whispered. "These are for The Red Racer exhibit. The one with the keyframes animatics and character concepts and--"

"And the original English voice actor audition tapes and the reference car models for the animators," Tweek finished as if he hadn't heard Craig go on and on about it before.

"How did you get these? They were sold out!"

"I have my ways." Tweek pulled the crust off his garlic bread.

Craig cocked a knowing eyebrow. 

"Token?"

"Token." 

Craig shook his head in disbelief. "Babe, you're the best. You really are." He started to lean across the table for a kiss, but Tweek pushed him back. He made sure to keep his hands on the apron and not Craig's thin t-shirt.

"Craig, you're going to get lasagna all over my apron. Be careful,” Tweek warned.

Craig furrowed his brows, then looked down. He blushed before he stood to untie the apron and take it off. 

As he set the folded apron on the counter, Tweek shoved a large piece of bread into his mouth. His eyebrows rose in surprise. It was actually really, really good. The butter and garlic mixed together perfectly. If he hadn't seen the french bread in the refrigerator earlier, he would have assumed Craig bought it premade.

"I think you should do the cooking for a while. You're not bad at it," Tweek complimented. Craig returned to his seat, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt.

He then shook his head, stabbing into the green beans. "Yeah, no. Not happening. Cooking is too much trouble. I'll stick to the laundry." 

After that, dinner went well. They chatted and flirted back and forth with each other as they did on any other date. Tweek went out of his way to see how flustered he could get his boyfriend before Craig ham handedly made a change in topic. This resulted in Craig rattling off the constellations that were in the Northern Hemisphere's sky in February, much to Tweek's amusement.

Tweek had just finished the last of his green beans when Craig started explaining the constellation for Ursa Major. 

Luckily, Tweek was able to keep down all of Craig's amazing cooking — until it came to the lasagna. The bread and green beans had been just mild enough for Tweek's stomach to handle. The lasagna was a different matter.

One bite and Tweek felt his stomach overwhelmed with rich flavors, herbs, and spices. 

"Tweek," Craig turned his head to the side, "are you ok?"

"Y-yes! Fine! Never better!" Tweek's voice came out as a squeak. Their flirting and discussions had distracted him, but now his stomach would no longer be ignored. It churned in protest at the lasagna, threatening to force it all right back up any second.

Craig furrowed his brow. He stood and walked around until he towered over Tweek. 

"I think that's a lie," He leaned himself down until their noses were nearly touching, "and I think I know why."

"You do?" Tweek felt the bile start to rise up his throat.

"Yeah," Craig smirked, "whatever your plan after dinner is, it's making you antsy. You don't need to worry about it." He moved closer, their lips brushing against each other for a second. "I'm sure I'll love what you thought up. You know what I like better than anyone."

"Craig...Move, please!" Tweek shoved him aside and darted towards the sink.

He barely made it in time to throw up all the garlic bread and green beans into the sink, right on top of his saucepan. This time, he could easily get his mouth under the faucet to clean the stomach acid off his tongue. 

Craig hurried over. He began to gently rub his back. It felt so soothing. Tweek hoped he'd never stop.

"Ok, so, whatever your bedroom plan is, I'm starting to worry about it now," Craig admitted. "Look, I'm vanilla. Whatever kinky thing you have planned can be thrown out the window; it's fine, honey."

"It's not — oh, man — " another wave of vomit cut him off. He groaned once he finished. "It's not that, Craig." He turned to meet his eyes. "I'm sick. I've been throwing up all evening."

Now his stomach churned as all the guilt that had built over the day came rushing back: the guilt for lying, for puking in an old lady's bushes, for withholding affection from his boyfriend, all of it.

He threw up again, but it was just stomach acid this time, no food.

Craig took a look at the sink, then back at Tweek. He sighed. 

"Come on, babe. Let's get you cleaned up and in bed." Craig reached over Tweek to snag the dutch oven from the drying rack. "We'll leave this by the bedside."

"Craig..." Tweek let himself be pulled away from the sink and against Craig's warm side. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. You were working so hard and...I'm sorry."

“It's fine," Craig told him as he steered him out of the kitchen. "I would have put off cooking for you if I knew you were sick, but — it's fine."

Tweek winced. Everything about Craig said “disappointment”: his slumped shoulders, his tone, his frown, the sigh he let out. 

Tweek couldn't blame him. He had every right to be disappointed. Tweek ruined the night he was trying desperately to save.

He should have just owned up to being sick. He would have disappointed Craig, but at least the disappointment wouldn't be at Tweek for lying like it was now. 

Why was he so stupid?

Craig helped him onto the bed, where Tweek instantly fell to his side. He shut his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing instead of the self-deprecating thoughts.

A few moments later, he felt something cool and wet against his lips. He opened his eyes to find Craig crouching beside the bed with a damp washcloth in his hand.

Craig pressed the back of his hand to Tweek's forehead.

"Yup, you're sick alright." He dropped the washcloth on the side table.

"No shit, Sherlock," Tweek grumbled. "Sorry." He apologized a beat later. 

Without a word, Craig helped him unbutton his shirt and change into his soft pajama bottoms. He then tossed the comforter over Tweek and tucked him in. Tweek felt a little like a child, but he didn't complain. 

Craig set the dutch oven on the nightstand by his head. 

Tweek winced. "I'm going to have to bleach the whole kitchen after this."

"I'll get the sink tonight for you," Craig offered, smoothing out the wrinkles in Tweek's forehead with his thumb.

Tweek sighed against the touch. Craig was warm and his hand felt so, so nice.  
Tweek wondered if he would be able to talk Craig into letting him snuggle against his body tonight, but thought better of it. He didn't want to risk puking on Craig in the middle of the night. That would only make Craig even more upset in him.

"Craig, I really am sorry about all this. Next time, I'll just tell you right off," Tweek swore.

“It happens. Leftovers taste better than fresh anyway. That's a fact," Craig affirmed. "Besides," he ran his hand down to cup Tweek's cheek, "'in sickness and in health', right?"

Tweek leaned into his touch. "We're not married, Craig."

"Do you want to be?" Craig asked with full seriousness in his voice.

Tweek nearly gagged on his tongue. He stared into Craig’s eyes, searching his face for some sort of indication that he was making a joke. 

“I, I, I mean, yeah, no, aaaah! Craig you can’t lay questions like this one a sick man!” Tweek forced out. 

“Is that a ‘’no’?” Craig asked, keeping his face a deadpan.

“No! No, it’s not!” Tweek shook his head as best he could with Craig holding his cheek. “I mean, urk! I _do_ want to be with you for the rest of my life. I love you! But a pro-proposal means — all those people — and I can’t — what if—” Tweek began to stammer. His stomach twisted, threatening to empty itself again. Tweek turned away from Craig to grab the dutch oven.

He held it in his lap, waiting. Craig backed away, moving his hands from Tweek’s cheek to his knee.

Luckily nothing came up.

As he set it back on the nightstand, his head spun with many contradicting thoughts. He didn’t have any problems with _marrying_ Craig. Tweek Tucker-Tweak had a nice ring to it. At the same time, he didn’t want to marry him, because of what would have to come before.

Craig was a master of cheesy romance. He would totally propose to Tweek in some big public display. _That_ had Tweek worried. Dozens of people watching one of the most special moments in his life? What if he messed everything up? Accidentally blurted out a ‘no’? Or fainted? What if someone yelled at them? 

That was way too much pressure!

“Do you...” Craig chewed his lip. He looked uncertain.

“Do I _what_?” Tweek asked between shallow breaths.

Craig slipped his hand into his front pocket. He produced a small, black box. Before Tweek could speak, he pushed it into his hands.

“Do _you_ want to be the one to ask _me_?” Craig curled Tweek’s fingers around the box. At Tweek’s shocked expression, Craig explained, “I was, um, going to ask you tomorrow, so you can’t claim I got you a physical gift.” He laughed nervously. “I even got some fake rose petals. I had this whole plan to wake up before you and make a big show of it in the kitchen.”

Tweek stared down at the box, then back up at Craig. 

“Seriously?” He whispered. The whirl of emotions in his brain settled, and Tweek found himself snorting a laugh. “Seriously?” He asked again, louder this time. “Rose petals? Did you get fancy candles too? Chocolates in a heart-shape box?”

Craig shrugged. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”

Tweek gripped the ring box tightly, pulling his hand away from Craig. 

Craig did have fancy candles and chocolate stashed away somewhere. 

Tweek knew he did, because after all this time together, they knew each other best. That's why Craig would never pull some sort of big public proposal that put Tweek on the spot. It was silly to even think so. 

“Well?” Craig prompted. He squeezed Tweek's kneecap.

Tweek took a breath, then took the box and set it on Craig's lap.

“I'm not going to use the ring you got for me to ask you to marry me.” Tweek shook his head. Craig had long, spindly fingers compared to Tweek's. No way the ring would fit on Craig's finger anyway.

“So, should I ask you now?” Craig began to slip off the bed to his knee.

Tweek grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back up. 

“Fuck no. I refuse to have my memory of my proposal punctuated by vomit,” Tweek told him sternly. He softened his tone when he continued, “How about, instead, I'm going to forget what you told me about the rose petals and candles so you can, you know, propose to me when I'm not infected with the love child of influenza and salmonella.”

Craig examined Tweek's expression a moment before he wrapped his arms around Tweek to pull him into a bear hug.

“Tweek, you make me soooo happy. I love you. I love everything about you,” Craig cooed. 

“I love you, too,” Tweek placed his own arms around his back, hugging him closer. 

While this Valentine's Day did not go as planned for either of them, Tweek decided, just like the stomach bug, he would get over it. In the end, he was happy he was going to spend the rest of his days with the love of his life.

* * *

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day  
> [My writing tumblr](https://uas-fics.tumblr.com)


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